Children Disowned By Time
by twistedwonderland101
Summary: We all know Lucina and the band of young warriors who followed her back to the past in hopes of preventing the dire future they came from, from happening. We know their personalities and the hardships they faced when their parents died. But do we really know how they truly felt when their family members died one-by-one? Now we will.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I recently started playing Fire Emblem: Awakening on my 3DS, which I received on Christmas, and I _fell in love_ with the future children. It's a little disappointing that they don't expound more on what they went through in their supports with their parents, though I have heard of the _Future Past_ DLC and I'm hoping to get that at some point. But the point of this story is that it's more of a series of short-stories on each of the future children and how I pictured the deaths of their parents to play out. Some of the deaths are hinted from certain support conversations, others are some that I came up on the spot. I hope you enjoy reading this just as much as I enjoyed writing it (and playing the game for it)!

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**The Scion of Legend**

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_"Why?! Why did you take that arrow for me?! You could have died!"_

* * *

"Father, watch as I dispatch my foe with a new attack that I have developed!" yelled Owain, who raised his sword high above his head with a _"heroic"_ grin on his face. The wind blew his dark brown hair slightly and his blue eyes shone with determination.

Standing across from him in the vibrant green field was his father, standing tall and proud as he always is. His father was a man of few words, a myrmidon with unprecedented skill, a hero - and Owain wanted nothing more than to be like him. Owain inherited his father's dark brown hair and followed in his footsteps as he trained to be a myrmidon himself. Owain was almost a spitting image of his father (even wearing similar myrmidon garb, only his was yellow, while his father's was a dark blue), if it weren't for his bright blue eyes and his loud, eccentric attitude - all of which he inherited from his mother, Lissa.

To Owain, his father was a man who could never be defeated so easily.

His father smirked at him as he gave his son his full attention. "Alright. Show me what you can do."

With a confident grin, Owain pointed his sword at the wooden dummy that he had set up in front of him. "Tremble in fear, villain! For you face the mighty Owain in great combat! Pray to the gods that your end shall be swift as my sword hand-"

"Owain," his father interrupted Owain's prepared monologue. "Cut the theatrics and show me the move."

Biting back a complaint, Owain calmed himself and took the stance that his father had taught him, the same stance that his father always used in battle, and poised himself to strike. He took a deep breath as he yelled, "RADIANT...DAAAAAAWN!" and struck the wooden dummy with great speed, surging forward until the dummy was behind him. Slowly, the wooden figure collapsed - sliced cleanly in half.

"Ha-ha! Father, did you see that? I sliced it in-"

A slight rush of wind and in the blink of an eye, Owain's father was standing in front of him with his back facing him and his arms spread out wide.

Owain stared at his father with wide eyes. "F-Father?"

The man said nothing, and without warning, Owain watched helplessly as his father collapsed to the ground; an arrow protruding from his chest.

"Father!" Owain knelt down to his father's side and called out at the top of his lungs. "Mother! _Mother, help!_"

The front door of their home slammed open as a petite woman with unruly blonde hair came rushing out, staff in hand. "Owain? Honey, what's wro-" Lissa took one look of the man crumpled on the ground next to her son and she paled. "Lon'qu?!" She rushed to her husband's side and quickly pulled the arrow out of her husband's chest.

Tears were welling up in Owain's eyes as he saw the blood on his father's chest. "Father...he shielded me and-" He bowed his head and bit back his cries.

Lissa wasted no time in casting a Mend over her husband's wound, but nothing happened. The wound didn't close.

"W-what?" Lissa tried again, and again, and again. Nothing. "No... No! Why isn't it working? My staff is broken, but it won't...i-it won't heal!"

Owain just watched, feeling completely and utterly powerless as his mother continued to try to heal his father, but to no avail.

Lissa tried again, only to be stopped by her husband, who grabbed her wrist - his grip weaker than it usually was. "Risen archer...in the trees," he gasped. "There will...be more soon. Lissa...take Owain...and go...to Ylisse. You'll...be safe." His eyes slowly shut and his breath came to a stop, his hand falling limp against his side.

Owain stared at his father's body, praying to the gods that his father was only unconscious and not really dead. But hearing his mother's despair-filled sobs, he knew that what he thought would be impossible, had happened. His father was dead.

* * *

_"Let me show you my finest weapon of all! ...It's actually just a piece of a staff. But I named it "Lissa". You were holding it when you... Well, it's my greatest treasure."_

* * *

He didn't know how it happened, he wished he could've stopped it, but he knew he couldn't. The situation had been simple: Defend a nearby village near Ylisse from a relatively moderate sized group of Risen. Owain had volunteered himself to go, eager to prove himself to both the original remaining members of the Shepherds and to his friends. But more importantly, he wanted to prove himself to his mother.

Ever since the day his father died, his mother kept him close - too close for comfort. Owain knew she meant well, that her constant coddling was reasonable. But if he allowed himself to be kept away from the fighting, he wouldn't be able to grow stronger to protect his friends and his family. Owain couldn't bear to sit idly, knowing that there was something he could do to aid the world - to be a hero like his father; which is why he insisted on tagging along with the Shepherds on this particular mission.

But when they arrived at the village, the number of Risen was much larger than they had anticipated. A simple mission ended up becoming a fight for their lives. And while Owain was enraptured in battle, he had allowed the worst possible thing to happen.

He allowed his mother to become a target.

A Risen barbarian struck her down with an axe. The large weapon had shattered his mother's staff, cut into her skin and sent her to the ground in a bloody heap. Owain was able to dispatch the monster quickly, but he wasn't fast enough to come to his mother's aid.

And now, here he was, clutching onto her pale body - his mother, clinging to life as she slowly bled out.

"Mother, just hold on!" He begged, his eyes brimming with tears. "Brady! Brady, where are you?! My mother has been wounded!" Owain scanned the battlefield for the rugged red-haired priest, but he was nowhere to be seen and his mother didn't have much time.

"Owain...stop," she said weakly; her voice just an echo of her usually loud, energetic tone. "It's...it's okay. It's alright. Everything...will be alright." She clutched his hand in a weak grip.

He looked at her and sobbed. She was covered in her own blood; her blue eyes were beginning to lose their shine. "No, no it's not! Mother...Mother, _please_," he begged, "Please don't leave me."

Lissa gave him a small smile, took a shaky breath and pushed something into the palm of his hand. "You...you've grown up to be a strong...kind man and a skillful warrior." She was crying too. "Your father...he would've...been so proud of you."

Her eyes were beginning to close and her grip on his hand was going slack. She was dying. He was going to lose his only parent. "Mother, no," he said. "Just hold on. _Please._"

But she was already gone. Her blue eyes were shut and her hand went limp. Owain felt numb, the same feeling from when he lost his father. Only this time, it felt much worse.

"Owain!"

Someone was calling his name, but he didn't bother to look up. All he could do was stay kneeling on the ground, his teary eyes fixated on his mother's cold corpse.

"Owain!" Inigo grabbed Owain's shoulder and forced the brunet to face him. "There's too many Risen surging through and there'll be more if we stay here! We have to retreat!"

"But," Owain looked at his mother's body again. "But Mother...her body... I can't leave her behind. I have to bury her..."

A flash of sympathy passed over Inigo's face, but it quickly faded into a serious one. "Owain, we need to go. _Now_. I understand, hell, _we all_ do! But if we stay any longer, we'll be dead by sundown. Your mother protected you all this time and so did your father. Don't let their sacrifice got to waste."

Inigo was right; Owain knew that, but to leave his mother's body behind? He glanced at his mother's face for the last time and nodded his head at Inigo. He took the blonde's hand and got back up on his feet; the two of them retreating from the battlefield with the others, whoever else survived.

By the time they reached safety, Owain walked away from the group, needing some time alone to grieve, and no one stopped him. All of the others - Inigo, Lucina, Laurent, and the other children of some of the past Shepherds - knew what it was like to lose their parents. They knew he needed some space.

Once he was alone, he glanced at what his mother had placed in his hand just before she died. He took one look and tears fell from his eyes.

She had given him a piece of her shattered staff, and her wedding ring.

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**A/N: **I hope you enjoyed Owain's segment. The next one will most likely be Brady or Inigo. I think it's obvious who Owain's father is (I stated his name, of course you know.) I actually S supported Lon'qu and Lissa _completely_ by accident, but I actually ended up liking it. The support was really cute and when I recruited Owain and found out that he was a myrmidon like Lon'qu, it was just _perfect!_ If you liked what you read, feel free to leave me a comment in the reviews. If you have something else to say, type that down too (Especially if you want to talk FE:A. I'd love that!) Just no hate, please. I accept constructive criticisim, but rude comments are a no-go.  
_THANK YOU! :)_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** After a _very_ long hiatus, I've finally come back to . School has been _extremely_ hectic as of late, mainly because of the fact that it's almost graduation season for the high school seniors. This also means _I_ will be graduating and I've been spending most of my time studying for college entrance exams. But in-between my Spartan-esque education, I managed to squeeze in some time to play more Fire Emblem: Awakening and get some inspiration to write more of these short-stories based off of the 2nd generation Shepherds. This short story is Inigo-centric and focuses on how he felt on losing both of his parents in the future that he'd came from. Inigo is one of my _favorite_ future kid - he's up there with Owain, Gerome and both Morgans (Male and Female). At first, I thought he was annoying - being the one of those flirtatious characters that I dislike - but his Supports with his parents revealed more to his character that I grew to love. (Mainly because I have a weakness for sensitive men who can cry at the drop of a hat.) So writing this short-story about him was a pleasure, and I hope you enjoy reading it just as much as I enjoyed writing it

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**A Man for Flowers**

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_"You may think me a dandy and a fool, but a lot of people depended on me in the future. Every day, I was out there fighting Risen and risking my life. With everyone looking to me to be strong, I had no choice. I HAD to be invincible. I couldn't complain or show any weakness. Not with everyone else struggling in that damn war-torn wasteland... Even with you and Mother gone, I had to pretend I was fine. That I wasn't hurting. I had to fight every day of my sorry life and wear a smile while I did it!"_

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"Inigo, you don't have to distribute the rations to the refugees tonight! You just came back from a battle! I know you must be tired. Rest, and let me do it instead."

The blonde mercenary smiled down at the azure-haired princess. "Now what kind of gentleman would I be if I skip out on my duties and hand them off to a battle-worn princess?" He hefted up one of the boxes of rations that they had managed to salvage in today's battle. "Now if you'll excuse me, Lucina."

Lucina, however, remained defiant. She pressed her hand against the box, halting Inigo mid-step. "Inigo, _please_," Her eyes shone with concern. "I know what happened today out in the battlefield."

The mercenary tensed, his smile slowly fading from his face. Of course _she_ knew. Laurent must've reported to her immediately after they had dispatched the last of the Risen in the area.

He forced the smile back onto his face. "Lucina, I'm fine. I swear it."

"No. You're not. Inigo, no one is _"fine"_ after their own father dies!"

He quickly side-stepped around the princess of Ylisse and ran further into the village. Behind him, he could hear Lucina calling his name but it quickly faded as the distance grew between the two of them. When he was sure that Lucina was far enough away from him, he slowed down to a brisk walk. His smile immediately dropped from his expression and his brown eyes dulling.

The battle that day had taken a turn for the worst - at least, it did for Inigo. Everyone else had no difficulties, no losses and cut through the Risen forces with ease. But for Inigo, it was a different story.

He and his father had been surrounded by Risen barbarians. There was too many for them to take on their own and in the midst of battle, Inigo had gotten careless and his sword arm was wounded by a Risen's axe. Wounded and unarmed, he was sure he was done for. Then, his father literally ran to his rescue.

Screaming at the top of his lungs - something he did very often - and his silver axe raised over his head, his father decimated any Risen that even dared to get close to Inigo. When there was an opening, instead of saving himself, his father had grabbed Inigo by the scruff of his shirt and _threw_ him just when more Risen came pouring in.

By the time reinforcements came in, it was already too late.

The Risen had overpowered his foolish and brave father. Brady and his mother, Maribelle, their most talented healers, couldn't save him from his wounds. And his father died. And Inigo blamed himself. Why shouldn't he? If he had only paid more attention to his surroundings, he wouldn't have gotten wounded - he wouldn't have allowed his father to rescue him!

And his father would still be standing right now.

Inigo's grip on the box of rations tightened, scraping his skin against the wood. Bitter tears built up in his eyes, but he couldn't let them fall. He had to put up a brave face for everyone - he had to smile.

"Inigo?"

The blonde boy froze. Looking up, he saw his mother standing before him. Dressed in her usual dancer's garb, her lovely pink hair blowing gently with the wind - she was as beautiful as ever. How was he going to break it to her that Father was dead because of him?

"Ah, mother!" His forced a smile back onto his face. "So nice to see you! I needed to see a pretty face after such a horrid ba-"

He was cut short when his mother suddenly wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a tight hug.

"M-Mother? What has gotten into you? I know you probably missed me but-"

"_I know._"

Inigo froze. "What?" He laughed, though much more strained than usual. "Mother, what are you talking about? What do you know? Let me guess, you found out about that misadventure Gerome and I had at the tavern?"

Olivia pulled away from her son and Inigo suddenly became aware of her red-rimmed eyes. She had been crying. "Inigo," the way she said his name pulled at his heartstrings, "_I know_."

For a moment, there was just silence. The two dancers just stared at one another. Both bearing a great sadness inside them - though one expressed it more openly than the other.

Then, his cheerful facade just crumbled. Tears cascaded down his cheeks as he held his mother close and cried with his head down and against her shoulder. Olivia didn't hesitate to squeeze Inigo closer to her and caressed his hair - tears also welling up in her dark brown eyes. With every shudder that wracked through Inigo's body, the more guilty and responsible he felt for his father's passing.

"I'm sorry," he sobbed, his voice cracking in-between intervals. "I'm so sorry, Mother."

Olivia shushed him, leaning her head against his. "It's alright. My poor, brave boy, you know you don't have to keep that smile up for me. It's always alright to cry, Inigo. It's good for the heart."

And cry he did.

* * *

_"I always used to practice beside your grave. I'd try to imagine what you'd say as you watched me. What I could fix... I'd picture how you'd tell me to speed up, or praise me when I got it right. I could hear it all in my head as I danced."_

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At the center of a lush green forest, one of the last few remaining ones left after Grima's assault on Ylisse, was a meadow that was pluming with beautiful and fragrant flowers of all shades of color. The sun was shining bright and the sky was clear - a perfect day, a rare thing. And in that meadow, a young man danced passionately. His very heart and soul was pushed into every movement, every stretch of a limb, every lunge, and every spin. The meadow was Inigo's sanctuary and his favorite, and only, place to practice his dancing in private.

The meadow was far enough away from the barracks that belonged to the Shepherds - or at least, what remained of them - to prevent any prying eyes from seeing him, yet close enough for him to come running back should danger raise its horrid head. It was also peaceful and beautiful - the perfect place for him to relax and the best place for inspiration.

Coming to a halt, Inigo wiped the sweat from his brow and glanced down. "What do you think, Mother? Did I nail the routine this time?"

The meadow was also where his mother's grave was located.

The tombstone was decorated with an array of flowers, freshly picked by the blonde mercenary. Carved on its surface was a simple and short epitaph:

_Here lies Olivia. A talented dancer, a wonderful friend and a loving mother. You will be greatly missed._

Inigo pursed his lips and nodded his head every so often, as if he were listening to someone speaking to him. "You're right. The landing on that grand jité was sloppy and I didn't extend my arms and legs straight enough at the end." He smiled at the tombstone. "You have quite the keen eye, Mother. You never fail to notice my mistakes. I just wish..."

His body began to tremble as tears welled up in his dark brown eyes - the same color that his mother's once were. "I-I just wish-" Inigo knelt down in front of the tombstone and laid one hand on its surface. "I just wish you were here with me, Mother."

It has been a month now since Olivia's passing, and Inigo still felt like he'd lost her only yesterday. Her death played clearly in his head. How she had thrown herself in front of him and shielded him from a Risen's sword. The blow had killed her instantly. Inigo never got the chance to say goodbye. And even now, after a whole _month_, he still couldn't cope.

Wiping the tears from his eyes, Inigo stared at his mother's name carved into the gray stone. "Mother, this...this will probably the last time that I will be dancing here, in front of your grave." He bowed his head. "Lucina and the others, we've all decided to take up Naga's offer to use the four gemstones to go back in time, before Grima appeared and caused all of this chaos. From there, we will try to change the course of history and prevent all of this - prevent all of this death and sadness."

"I might be able to see you again."

The mercenary smiled to himself. He knew it was selfish, but the main reason why he had decided to go along with Lucina was for a chance to see his parents _alive_. He wanted to hear his father's boisterous and borderline deafening, laughter. He wanted to see his mother dance again and hear her soft voice ring through the air like wind chimes in a summer breeze. He just wanted to have his family back. Though, he knew that it wouldn't quite be the same; his parents would be younger - gods, maybe they aren't even married yet when he shows up. But to get a chance to see their faces and to hear their voices? Inigo would be a fool to decline.

But he wanted nothing more than to see the end to Grima's reign of terror, even if their mode of doing it was like nipping a rose at its bud.

"Inigo!"

The young man perked up and glanced behind him. From afar, he can barely make out Cynthia's petite form in the distance. The energetic pegasus knight had her hands cupped around her mouth as she called out again, "Inigo! C'mon! It's time to go!"

"That's my cue," he mumbled.

Inigo rose from the ground and gave one last loving look to his mother's tombstone. This would be the last time he'll ever see his mother's name on a gravestone. He'll make sure of it.

"Goodbye, mother," he whispered. "Wish me luck."

"Inigo! Hurry up or we'll leave you behind!"

"I'm coming, Cynthia! You know you can't rush perfection!"

As Inigo ran off to join his friends, he could've sworn he heard a familiar loving laugh ring in his ears.

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**A/N:** Two down, _eleven_ more to go! I've decided that I'll be writing these short stories in order of the children's Paralogues, so the next one you can expect to see is the sensitive, rogue-looking crybaby, _Brady_! I've also finished playing part 1 of _The Future Past_ DLC and I'm halfway through the second part with no casualties (yet). I'm also announcing that I may be writing a fanfiction story for my Avatar of FE:A with a _slight_ twist. So keep an eye out for that! Oh, and if you can guess who Inigo's father is, you get a hug! :D

Well, that's all I have to say on that matter. If you liked this story, feel free to leave me some feedback in the reviews and tell me your thoughts. No hate, please, cause honestly that is just a waste of time. I hope you enjoyed Inigo's segment! See you next time! ;)


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